Speech Impediment
by Crazed Fuzzle
Summary: In which Jim is made aware of certain failings in his speaking habits and endeavors to change them.


A/N: Just an attempt at linking the melodrama of TOS Kirk to the irreverence of our new Kirk. Happy birthday, Kia!

Jim was almost to the turbolift when he realized he was being followed.

Normally it would be no problem. Jim _liked_ socializing with his crewmates, encouraged it in fact, because altogether too many of his underlings were nervous about talking to the big bad captain as if he was a real person and it got on his nerves, damnit. But today they'd just finished up with a bad mission and he was exhausted and nothing was more at the front of his mind than retiring to his room and getting some well-deserved sleep.

"Can I help you, Lieutenant?" he asked as Uhura got onto the lift after him. He was vaguely surprised; although she had become far less deprecating towards him since he'd earned his captaincy, she still didn't often seek out his company.

"Yes, Captain, I think you can."

Uh-oh. She was using _that_ voice. The one where she was getting all self-righteous and he was getting lectured about why he was wrong. He didn't like that voice. Shouldn't there be some regulation about uppity communications officers not being allowed to use that voice on their captains?

The trick, though, was to make sure she didn't know it was getting to him. He still held onto the hope that if he pretended it didn't work, she'd stop using it.

He gave her a lazy smile. "Just as long as it won't make Spock jealous."

She scowled at him, clearly trying to express how not-amused she was. Jim wondered if not even having to use words to get the point across made her a very good linguist or a very bad one.

"Just what do you think you were doing back there?" she asked as the lift reached its destination. The doors swooshed open and he stepped out, a little piece of hope he hadn't even realized he'd been holding dying as she followed him.

"Back where?" he countered confusedly, glancing over his shoulder at the lift he was exiting as though it would give him some answers. It didn't.

"We lost some good men down on that planet," she snapped, striding briskly beside him down the hallway. Ah. So she was skipping right to the let's-pretend-Jim-didn't-even-say-anything stage. "The least you could do was show them a little bit of respect."

Jim sobered. If there was anything that he took seriously, it was his job. The suggestion that he placed so little value on the lives of the men he was responsible for was like a bucket of cold ice poured over his head.

"Wait, are you saying that I don't _care_ that those ensigns died?" he demanded. He spun to face her, stopping them both in their tracks. "Because, let me tell you, Uhura—"

"I believe your exact words were, and I quote 'Well, I guess we'd better not go _there_ again. Take us somewhere more fun this time, Mr. Sulu.'" She paused, making sure that the words had a chance to take full effect. "Care to tell me how that's respectful to the men we lost down there?"

He winced, having his words thrown back in his face like that. Maybe he should have thought it over a little better—but he had been so relieved and giddy at getting out of there alive that maybe he'd come off as a bit irreverent. Still, that didn't mean he liked getting a blasted lecture on it. She had no idea what he'd just gone through, and he thought he deserved a little bit of a chance to get back a little of his own against danger and near death, even if it was only through bad jokes.

"Alright, maybe I shouldn't have said that," he admitted grudgingly, beginning his trek to his quarters once again. "Won't happen again."

"You don't get it," Uhura exclaimed. "It's not just about what you said, it's about what you didn't say. This isn't the first time this has happened. You come back from an away mission where men have _died_ and act like it was just another day for you, like it doesn't even matter!"

"Of course it matters!" He stopped himself from yelling. He was the captain; he had to keep his cool. "You want me to make big flowery speeches over the fleetingness of life and the purpose of our existence?"

"It might be nice, yeah. It's better than pretending that nothing happened!"

"Fine," he grumbled, finally reaching his door. "You want big flowery speeches, you've got 'em."

The automatic doors swished shut before his lieutenant could respond. He didn't even bother turning on the light to undress. In seconds he was fast asleep.

X X X

"Hey Spock, you know what calumnious means?"

Jim could practically hear the eyebrow going up as his First Officer took a seat across from him, but he didn't glance away from the PADD he was perusing. It was hard enough to keep up with this material without losing his place.

"It is a word commonly used to mean slanderous," the half-Vulcan replied matter-of-factly. Not that Spock was really ever anything but matter-of-fact.

"Huh. I guess that'd make sense."

"May I inquire as to your reasons for asking?" Spock had sure come a long way since they'd first started out on the ship, that was for sure. Now he was actually starting conversations. Sort of. Unless he was just curious. Still, curiosity had to be a good sign, right?

Jim instructed the PADD to hold his place and set the device on the table. "Just catching up on some classic Earth literature," he explained. "You know, this Hamlet guy is really messed up."

"The question of Prince Hamlet's sanity has been cause for intense debate among Earth academics for hundreds of years," Spock agreed. Or at least Jim took it as agreement, because it supported his point, and what else could a guy ask for?

"Hamlet?" A voice remarked from behind him. "Nay, it's Macbeth ye'll be wantin'."

Jim grinned as—who else?—Scotty joined them, bearing a tray stacked high with food. The way the captain figured it, his chief engineer had never really recovered from being stuck on Delta Vega with food that made field rations look divine. Either that or Scotty just really liked food. Or maybe a combination of the two.

"Now _there's_ a play," Scotty continued. "Witches, intrigue, battles—"

"Not to mention a curse on it," Bones put in dourly.

Jim vaguely wondered how it always worked out that his senior officers always ended up eating lunch with him. It probably had something to do with the fact that they usually worked the same shifts as him, too, but it was uncanny. He could start eating completely alone, and by the time he was done he'd practically have the entire bridge with him. All that was missing was the captain's chair.

"Aye, but you do not understand," Scotty protested. "The curse is what makes the Scottish play _really_ exciting."

"It is illogical to presume that a play has been cursed." Who else but the First Officer? Jim grinned. He could sense the beginnings of one of Bones and Spock's classic bickering matches—although that wasn't really hard. All you had to do was notice they were in the same room.

"So what, you're telling me that all the catastrophes associated with it throughout history are just coincidence?" Jim couldn't quite tell whether Bones actually believed that Macbeth was cursed or whether he was just arguing because he hated how close-minded the half-Vulcan was. Maybe a little of both, he decided, but probably more of the latter.

There went the eyebrow. "You are a man of science, doctor. Surely you do not believe in such unfounded superstitions."

"And maybe it's belief in the thing that gives the superstition its power," Bones retorted, punctuating his comment by waving a forkful of something unrecognizable. "People think it's cursed, so they subconsciously do things that make the curse a reality."

"Then it is not the play itself that is at fault, but the human psyche," was Spock's argument.

Scotty leaned towards the captain to whisper "I'm not entirely certain what they're goin' on about anymore, but I'm fairly sure it's not Shakespeare."

Jim favored him with a lopsided grin. "Welcome to the club. This is how we feel when you start talking mechanics."

"Well I never!" The Scottish man was clearly affronted. He stood and picked up his tray (how had he finished all that food so fast?). "I'm goin' back to the _civilized_ company down in engineerin'."

The captain laughed as his chief engineer left, knowing it was all good natured teasing. He tuned out the bickering of his CMO and First Officer—and it would take a far better man than James T. Kirk to discern whether _that_ was good natured or not—and picked up his PADD again.

He'd done some thinking about what Uhura had said. She wanted him to make grandiose speeches? He'd give her a speech she'd never forget, so that she'd never forget _why_ her captain should not be giving grandiose speeches. To that end, he figured he'd do some research on the whole art of speech-making. He figured he'd start with Shakespeare, then work his way through the great speakers of history. Never let it be said that Jim Kirk did anything halfway.

"I was not under the impression that ancient literature would provide sufficient distraction for you to neglect your meal, Captain," Spock observed after a time. Jim glanced up from his reading to discover that his food had gone cold and frowned at it.

"You need a check-up?" Bones inquired, dripping with sarcasm as always. "You never studied this hard in Starfleet."

"Just reading up for a project of mine," Jim explained, shoving down his cold meal as quickly as he could so he didn't have to taste it.

"Why does that not make me feel any better?" Bones sat back and crossed his arms. He looked altogether too parental for a best friend, in the captain's professional opinion.

"No Romulan Ale this time. I promise."

Bones looked unconvinced, and Spock looked too curious about the Romulan Ale. It was not a comfortable position to be in. Wise, tactically brilliant captain that he was, Kirk sagely decided that it was time to make his retreat. He stood and clapped a hand on Bones's shoulder.

"I'd love to stay and chat, boys, but I've got things to see and people to do." He paused a moment, and made a face. "Um. Reverse that, would you?"

He pointedly ignored the eyes on his back all the way out of the mess hall.

X X X

"What we witnessed today was a tragedy. It is said that each man is an island; perhaps that's true. That two people so close can still be so distant and incur such injury to their brothers is a true testament to the necessity of our relating to and trusting one another, lest we end in ruin as these poor souls have is a true testament to the necessity of our relating to and trusting one another, lest we end in ruin as these poor souls have."

There was silence on the bridge following the conclusion of Jim's speech, and he had to resist the urge to start laughing. Keeping a straight face was all part of the charade, so he couldn't ruin it by breaking the appropriately bleak expression he wore.

"I didn't know we'd started a poetry hour," Bones remarked finally. "You shoulda given me warning so I could write a couple haikus." It figured that he was the first to recover from this odd break in character; he'd had the most time to get used to Jim Kirk's quirks.

"I fail to see how your commentary has any relation to the situation we have recently resolved, Captain," Spock put in, completely ignoring Bones's comment. Jim didn't know if he should consider that an improvement on bickering, particularly since if he'd been serious he'd be feeling unpleasantly double-teamed at the moment.

"No?" Jim asked, ingenuous surprise written all over his face. "Have a little compassion, Mr. Spock."

"Captain, we just helped two warring planets make peace. I don't think many people would count that as a tragedy."

"You too, Sulu? What about you, Chekov?"

It was a little bit unfair making the youngest crewmember squirm like that, but he couldn't resist. "Vhile your speech vas most beautifully deliwered…I must agree vith zhe Commander."

"How about you, Lieutenant Uhura?" Here was the fun part, where he made her eat her words. "You didn't think my speech was _completely unnecessary_, did you?"

She gave him an overly-saccharine smile, and he felt a sinking feeling in his stomach. Good things never happened when girls got that kind of smile.

"Of course not, captain," she positively _cooed_. It gave him the willies, hearing that kind of tone coming out of Uhura's mouth. That was one of the reasons it was a mercy that her relationship with Spock wasn't all lovey-dovey; he didn't think he could withstand her sweet-talking his first officer on a regular basis. Not to mention having his first officer sweet-talk back—now _there_ was a thought to chill the bones

"I can always appreciate a good speech," she continued. "It's not your fault you're too dense to interpret the subject matter correctly."

The bridge crew erupted into guffaws around him. Kirk sat back in his Captain's chair and crossed his arms, muttering good-naturedly about insubordination and lack of respect. He finally gave in and grinned as his crew began to catch on to the fact that it had all been an elaborate joke.

He withstood the teasing, still good-humored. He'd just have to do better next time. Sooner or later he'd manage to convince her how ludicrous it was for him to be pondering the meaning of life after every single mission.

X X X

"I guess people just aren't meant to be alone in the universe, no matter what their species. Maybe independence isn't something that we should value, but avoid at all costs."

"Hell, Jim, that was an extreme case."

"Was it? Don't we all go a little bit insane when we refuse to lean on anyone else, when we isolate ourselves and don't let anyone close enough to help us?"

The mood was somber on the bridge. Their recent encounter with a powerful alien entity had been a costly one; the entity had cut itself off from the rest of the universe and gone mad with the solitude. Too many of their men had died because of that madness.

Jim let his First Officer and CMO begin yet another debate on some point of philosophy, and surprised himself by paying attention not just to the bickering, but to the subject matter. He wondered when he had started caring about things like that, when talking at length about deep questions had become normal for him.

He blamed Uhura completely and unreservedly. He'd kept trying to prove her wrong with ridiculous reflections, until it grew to be less about Uhura and more about the speech itself. After a while, he supposed, it had become second nature to him. Of course, he liked to think that his current musings weren't quite as over-the-top as his early ones.

Of course, he'd never let himself talk like that in everyday conversation. Too much seriousness wasn't good for anyone.

It was with that thought firmly in mind that he interrupted the argument going on around him.

"Bones," he said sternly, "Mr. Spock. If the two of you keep fighting, one of you will actually win."

"I don't need to win to know I'm right," McCoy grumbled, but relented. Jim grinned; his friend's sarcastic streak was rivaled only by his stubborn one. Spock's skeptical expression—well, as skeptical as Vulcans ever got, but Jim like to think that he'd gotten at least _decent_ at reading his face over the past months—only made him grin wider.

"Mr. Sulu!" he called. "Take us out. This system gives me the creeps."

His only response to Uhura's glare was the widening of his grin. She couldn't expect him to be mature _all_ the time, after all. It was just James T. Kirk's way of telling the universe he hadn't let it get to him just yet.


End file.
